


And Now the Legacy Begins

by DragonsPhoenix



Series: Lotus in Muddy Water [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Jossverse
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-12-06 21:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonsPhoenix/pseuds/DragonsPhoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While fleeing Kakistos and Council Enforcers, Faith gets an offer of help from a friend of a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The description of the dog in Faith's dream comes from the movie _Turner and Hooch_.
> 
> References include: _The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension_ , the _Batman_ tv series, The Dark Knight graphic novel, and some Doc Savage movie I saw on tv when I was a teen. 
> 
> Nominated at [Gotta Have Faith](http://faith.moments-lost.org/nominees.php): 

Faith looks up from the ruins of her sandcastles. Her mother, wearing a bathing suit she recognizes from old photographs, floats above the waves. The plastic bucket, once red, is now pink with age but, when Faith picks it up, she's a child again, holding onto it tightly. Momma had said she could build sandcastles but they kept falling down. 

She can hear crowds of people, on the beach behind her, and she knows that the bad men, who aren't really men, are searching through the crowds to find her. She can't stay hidden in the sea of people forever but, for now, their murmurings, that sound more like the sea than the sea itself, work to hide her. There's no sound at all to her left and perhaps that's what makes her turn her head and look. A dog, taller than she'd been back then, bounds towards her; it's ears flap like the wings of a bat, up and down, with each leap and it's jowls pull up, showing pointed fangs. 

As if spotting the dog had made her visible, Faith hears a shout from the crowd. Knowing her child legs will never outrun them but also that she's too small to fight, she dashes into the sea, dropping her bucket as the waves hit her. The water drags at her, slowing her down. The waves splash against her face. As she's coughing out salt water, another wave swells up and drags her under. Faith tries to break free, as the currents toss her about, but she can't find the surface. There is no air. 

Something grabs her and pulls her out of the water. She gasps for air but then is dropped back down. As she sputters back up, her feet find the ground this time. Faith wipes muck, silkier than she'd expect seaweed to be, away so she can scan for trouble. Her mother still floats above the water but the beach is gone. It's a swamp now. Faith's eyes dart about, as she recognizes the area. She'd been here less than a day before. There should be blood in the water, she thinks just as the sweet scent of decay hits her. Something unseen brushes against her legs and she thinks about alligators but there's nobody else about and, whatever it was, it doesn't come back. 

As she glances down at herself, Faith realizes why she can stand here. She's an adult again, back in the clothes she'd discarded after she'd lost the vamps: jeans almost black with blood and her shirt raked by claws that had left such deep gashes that only Slayer healing had saved her life. 

She looks towards her mother who seems untouched by the murky water. “Don't you dare just lie there while I'm out here fighting for my life,” Faith shouts. Determined to make a connection, even though she'd never been able to while her mother was alive, Faith dives into the water. Spitting out muck as she surfaces, she starts swimming with a strong overhand stroke that brings her to her mother's side more quickly than she expects it to. 

Her mother isn't floating. She's in a boat. It's transparent, like Wonder Woman's airplane on that old tv show. Faith reaches a hand out to touch it, dripping muck onto the side, but the dirt slides right off, leaving it as crystal clean as it had been before Faith had touched it. 

Faith stares at her mother, immaculate above the slimy water that she herself is stuck in, getting more and more pissed off until she feels a weight in her hand. As she raises the dagger out of the water, she doesn't notice that it's as untouched by the muck as the boat is; all she sees is a beauty of a blade: blindingly sharp curved lines that almost glow in the faint moonlight. Faith tilts the blade, rotating it from edge to edge, until she sees brown eyes reflected back at her. She looks down but her mother's eyes are closed. 

“Wake up,” Faith shouts. “Talk to me. Look at me.” 

When her mother doesn't move, Faith takes the blade in both hands, raises it high above her head, and stabs down into the body. She stabs again. And again and again only stopping when the night air is filled as a dog howls, once, off in the distance. 

In the silence that follows, ripples shimmer across the lake, breaking up the moonlight. She's uncut, Faith thinks, feeling a sense of awe but then she sees the blood dripping off the side of the boat, creating long trailing spirals as it joins with the muddy water. Faith doesn't even notice when she loosens her grip on the dagger, allowing it to slide back into the swamp. 

She reaches out to touch the bleeding boat. Only one index finger cautiously touches the blood but both her hands are covered in gore as a voice calls out, “You cut me, Faith.” It isn't her mother's voice. 

The dog howls again, closer this time, and lights appear along the shore, scanning back and forth, crossing each other, as if searching. Faith turns to flee but water weeds, too strong for her to break free of, grab at her, binding her in place. The shifting shadows on the shore look like monsters, reaching out to snatch her. “You cut me and now you're going to pay.” 

“Shit.” Faith bolted up, almost hitting her head on a freight box. A longer thinner box had been placed over a shorter but wider one, creating the overhang that Faith had hidden herself under. The hideaway was darkened by shadows that, along with the rocking of the train and Faith's exhaustion, had allowed her to sleep. Good thing too, Faith thought as she stretched, working kinks out of her back. Better to get some R&R now, while there's still light out. 

Faith peered around the freight boxes to confirm that she was alone. She checked more thoroughly than she might have if she hadn't woken up screaming, just in case she'd been heard and sent a baddie into hiding. After she was certain the compartment was empty, Faith questioned her decision to take the train. There'd been no time to get to the airport, not with vamps hot on her trail. The train had gotten her out of town that much faster than an airplane would have although getting back to Boston would certainly be slower. One plus that no plane ever had though, if it came down to that, she could always jump off a train. 

Faith paced what little open space there was in the compartment. Mrs. B would have been proud, she thought. First time hopping a train and no harm, no foul. To distract herself from thoughts of the swamp, Faith thought back to the time her Watcher had taught her to ride the rails. It had been a bit heavy on theory over practice but, hey, she'd made it work. 

“Select a train that appears to be headed in the right direction and wait until it's ready to depart. At that point, they'll be a flurry of activity near the engine before people start backing away and you'll only have a minute or two to get yourself hidden on the train.” 

Faith's Watcher, Mrs. Petra Hyde Burnand, had turned the living room of her townhouse into a library. It was twice as big as the living room of the house Faith had grown up in but still didn't have enough space for all of the Watcher's books. About a quarter of her collection was stored in a backup library, that had been a guest room, on the second floor of the townhouse. 

“So,” Faith had asked, “How do you know all this stuff anyway? I mean, there's nothing about it in the Slayer's Handbook.” 

“Sit up straight, Faith. A Slayer must always be prepared.” Mrs. Burnand's lips pursed into a tight line, adding more wrinkles to her aged skin. At first Faith had thought of her as a grandmother, someone who might make up for all the shit her family had put her through. That hadn't lasted long. 

“I was just wondering,” Faith said as she sat up in the heavy wooden chair, shifting her hips side-to-side to check that the stake she'd tucked away was still secure. 

“And don't squirm so,” the Watcher shouted as she strode across the room. Faith was about to apologize when Mrs. Burnand, leaning over the windowsill, which left her bathed in sunlight, continued, “It was my younger brother, Reggie, who taught me. He used to hop trains, hobo style he called it. He took me with him three times before we were caught. I never went again.” 

“Then why,” Faith started to ask. 

Mrs. Burnand spun around so quickly it took a moment for her skirt to catch up. The pain flashed off her face so fast, as she shifted back into teaching mode, that Faith was able to convince herself she'd imagined it. “Because, if you aren't caught, it allows you to travel without being traced. No tickets means no records. In addition, people who don't see you can't report on your activities or whereabouts.” 

“Not bad,” Faith replied, slouching back into her chair. “I'd like to meet this brother of yours someday.” 

Mrs. Burnand's lips tightened into a grim line. “I'm afraid that's quite impossible.” As Faith started to protest, Mrs. Burnand raised a hand to silence her and then added, in a patently false chipper voice, “Enough lessons for today. Why don't you practice the fourth kata?” 

“School's out? No prob here.” Faith stopped in the doorway and looked back uncertainly. 

“I'll be down to review your progress shortly.” 

Sunlight no longer fell through the chink in the freight car but it was still nowhere near dark. “Guess you're finding out where your brother went, huh?” she asked her Watcher, knowing the woman would never hear her again. 

Feeling antsy, sitting there with nothing to do, Faith jumped onto the top of a freight box. Damn, hope I'm going the right way, she thought. If this takes too long, my dagger'll be gone. “OK, chill,” she told herself. “Nobody knows what happened, not yet anyway, and so nobody's going after your blade.” It didn't help. Faith didn't know why but she had to get to the dagger first. 

Mrs. Burnand had been opening a package, happier than Faith had ever seen her. “What'cha got there?” 

Looking as if she were raising up a holy relic, Mrs. Burnand held up a dagger, whose asymmetrical blade was curved into four waves, the largest of which ended in a wooden hilt. “It's called a r'cal.” 

For the first time since they'd met, Faith became still. The Watcher was too fascinated by the blade to notice it though. “That's a thing of beauty.” 

“It is indeed,” Mrs. Burnand replied feeling quite satisfied with her newest acquisition. “Not only is it a remarkable blade but it's primary focus is as a magical, or I should properly say spiritual, weapon. My cousin sent it to me. It had been guarded by the Council for centuries, until it was lost in China during the Boxer Rebellion.” 

When Faith reached out to touch the blade, her Watcher dropped it down, into the box, which she then closed. 

“That's some cousin you've got there.” After only five weeks with her Watcher, Faith had picked up the benefits of an indirect approach. 

“Aidan Taylor,” Mrs. Burnand replied. “One of the most accomplished Watcher candidates of our generation: a foremost scholar of the occult, he knows more about demonology than any ten experts put together, and, what is that phrase you use, a kick-ass martial artist.” 

“Sort of like Buckaroo Banzai but with magic instead of physics, then. Does he sing too?” Faith asked. 

Mrs. Burnand opened her mouth, as if about to ask a question, but then shook her head. “I've always thought of him as a Doc Savage type myself, although much more of a loner.” 

“So more like Batman?” Faith asked. She didn't recognize the reference but got the general idea of the character her Watcher was referring to. 

“Batman? You mean that campy character played by Adam West? Don't be ridiculous.” 

“He's not,” Faith started say but then she just shrugged. 

“I had hoped Aidan would be willing to train you. With his skill, he'd have been a more effective instructor than I am.” 

“He's that good?” Faith asked, settling herself down onto the couch and putting her feet up on the coffee table, only to shift them back to the floor when Mrs. Burnand winced. 

“Yes, but if this dagger is any indication, he's off gallivanting around the world again.” 

“Oh yeah? Like where?” That sounded interesting. Mrs. Burnand had kept her in Boston. Hell, she was this super powered chick, stuck in her hometown. Boring. 

“He could be anywhere: working with a shaman from some indigenous tribe so far from civilization that only a few dozen Westerners have even heard of it; on walkabout in Australia; studying with a Buddhist monk in Bhutan; researching ancient scrolls in the Vatican.” 

A train whistle jolted Faith out of her reverie. That dagger is mine, she thought. I just have to get to Boston before anyone shows up looking for it.


	2. Chapter 2

Because she'd been living there, Faith had a key to the front door of Mrs. Burnand's townhouse. When she'd finally accepted that she was a Slayer, she'd thought it would be like those spy movies guys used to drag her to: beautiful people; exotic locations. Instead it had been work, work, and more work in her hometown. Mrs. Burnand had gone on for ages about stability, security, and an environment she knew. Whatever, not like Boston had ever been that stable for her. On the other hand, first trip out of town and... She nipped that thought in the bud.

If I were smart, I'd go for food first and then sleep, she thought but she could hear Mrs. Burnand in the back of her mind. “A Slayer must always be prepared for an attack.” That and, “Secure your weapons first.”

“Weapons it is,” she said as she looked over the room Mrs. Burnand had converted into a library. To her right was a window, letting in enough of the afternoon sun that it warmed the wooden floor. Next wall over had a doorway whose hall led both to the kitchen and a staircase that went up to the second floor. Faith thought longingly of food for a moment before walking towards the bookcases that covered most of the remaining two walls. The dark shelves were alleviated by a pale track that provided a runner for the ladder to travel on. It ended on the fourth wall, past the end of the bookcase, where weapons had been hung: a crossbow, two swords, and even a spear although Faith had never used it.

As she pulled books off of a shelf on the far wall, the one furthest from the window and doorways, and laid them out onto the table, Faith thought that the books, when not regimented to their shelves, at least made a bit of distraction. While they weren't brightly colored, some of them were at least leather bound in dark rusts and shades of green. She had about a dozen books piled up when she heard a noise from the back hallway.

Damn, he's found me, she thought. Her weapons as well as escape were on the other side of the room. The vamp would be sure to see her before she could get to them. “When a Master is uncertain of his enemy's location, he'll send minions out as scouts,” Faith heard her Watcher say. Let's hope your right, she thought, pulling out her stake.

She hugged the wall as she made her way towards the door. If the vamp didn't scan the room, she'd have more of a chance to sneak up on him. If he does, she thought, I'm screwed anyway. When he came in, he was blowing on a hot cup of tea. Faith breathed a sigh of relief, certain the vamp was alone, although the incongruity of a vampire cooling off his tea held her still for a moment, long enough for him to look up. He frowned as he saw the books piled up on the table. “What, don't like to read?” she asked, feeling more confident since he didn't appear to be much of a threat.

His tea cup went flying as he backed away, tripping over his own feet, and fell, with a thud, to the floor. She'd barely had a chance to register that the vamp was in sunlight, and not burning, when he finished fumbling in his jacket and pulled out a cross. Holding it towards her in a shaking hand, he said, “Back, creature of darkness.”

Faith looked at him more closely as she put her stake away: dark blue suit with light pinstripes; a tie so horrifically ugly that it was almost a weapon in and of itself; glasses; bad haircut. As he pulled out a vial of holy water, he added, “I mean it. I am prepared for you.”

“Relax, I'm not a vamp,” she said.

As she walked over, to help him up, he held the cross out more firmly and said, “I'm onto your wicked ways, evil temptress.”

“You always talk like someone out of a bad horror flick?” When he didn't respond, she pulled out her stake and asked, “You used to vamps attacking you with stakes?”

“Oh thank goodness” he said, looking relieved. As he stood up, he put the cross and holy water away. Are you always that gullible, Faith thought. If I were a vamp, you'd be dead now.

He stood as tall as he could, as if the extra height gave him added importance, and said, with a smug self-confidence, “Wesley Wyndham-Price at your service. Your new Watcher.” He said the last line almost confidentially, as if she hadn't already figured that out for herself.

“Yeah, don't think so, Bambi.”

“That's Wesley, I mean, Mr. Wyndham-Price, to you.” He gave her what he obviously thought was a stern look, which she ignored as she went back to pulling books off the shelves.

“Just what do you think you're doing?” he asked, snatching a book from her. “Mrs. Burnand's shelving system, while very impressive, is also quite complex. Do you know how long it will take me to reshelve these books correctly?”

“What do you care?” she asked, almost as an afterthought, as she pulled a box off the shelves.

“As your new Watcher it is, of course, my responsibility to care for the library. Although,” he added in an almost begging tone, “if you do know where they're supposed to go, I don't suppose you could help me put them back?”

“Wait a sec.” Faith put the box down on the table, past where the books were piled up, and turned to stare at Wesley. “You're just going to move into her home and take it over?”

“Well, of course Mrs. Burnand's personal belongings will be sent back to her relatives in London and naturally arrangements will be made to ship her body back for burial.”

“Body?” Faith asked warily.

“Yes. I'm sure her family will want that taken care of as quickly as possible. Umm,” he asked as if the question had just occurred to him. “What did you do with it?”

Faith jerked her head away before turning towards the box. Opening it, she pulled out the r'cal, ignoring Wesley by carefully examining the blade.

He stared at her for a few moments before understanding dawned. “You don't have it. Do you know nothing of your responsibilities? Mrs. Burnand risked her life, quite literally, for you and you... what? Abandon her body in a vampire's lair?”

Stepping onto the ladder, whose track was worked into the wall above the bookcase, Faith gave it a shove that sent her rolling away from Wesley. The ladder turned the corner, slowed, and stopped at the crossbow. “Whatever,” she finally replied as Wesley scurried after. “Do yourself a favor and skip town.”

“A Watcher does not abandon his sacred duty.” The look that accompanied the words suggested he thought that Faith didn't live up to the same high standards.

Faith jumped down from the ladder. Wesley startled back as she landed mere inches away from him. While he was trying to regain his composure, she said, “I kinda have a problem with Watchers. They die.”

“Obviously your training has been mismanaged.” As he adjusted his tie, Wesley added, “Mrs. Burnand was old. Outdated. Lucky for you, training methods have improved since her day.”

“Listen Poindexter,” Faith shouted. “I don't need a keeper. You need a keeper? Call Taylor.”

“Taylor?” he asked, momentarily confused by the reference. “You mean Aidan Nelson Taylor? Nonsense,” Wesley said as he waved his hand dismissively. “He's no longer even part of the Council. Exiled to America over a decade ago. I'm your Watcher now and you will obey me.”

Faith didn't bother to respond as she took a half dozen stakes from a trunk, near the front door, and added them to the depleted weapon stash in her bag. She glanced back to the box on the table and decided that she wasn't about to go back for an empty box when she was that close to getting away. Unzipping a compartment in her bag, she carefully put the r'cal in before zipping the bag back up.

While Faith was busy gathering weapons, Wesley had kept up a steady stream of comments. “Now look here, young lady. Are you even listening to me at all? I can and will report this to the Council if you don't cooperate.”

He shut up as Faith stood and swung the bag over her shoulder. “Have a good life and all that. My advice? Get back to London where it's safe.”

“I'll call the Council. I will,” he shouted after her as Faith jogged out into the street and, after a couple of sharp turns, vanished into a neighbor's yard.

* * *

Got vamps on my trail. Need to know if the Council is gonna be after me as well, Faith thought after she'd left her Watcher's house for the last time. Before they'd left for Missouri, Faith had gotten sucked in by the neighborhood gossip, who was seventy if she was a day, and had nothing better to do than talk. Faith had cursed her luck at the time; she hadn't had an excuse ready and it had taken over an hour to get away but that bit of bad luck was proving itself useful. She knew that the Mitchell family, whose house was across the street and three down from Mrs. Burnand's, would be empty for a few weeks.

Chowing down on the second of three frozen dinners she'd found in the kitchen, Faith watched Mrs. Burnand's house from behind the blinds, figuring they'd protect her from being noticed. Nothing so far. She didn't know how long it would take Council goons to show up. While she wasn't worried about anything Wesley could do, she did know the Council could act, effectively, against Slayers. She wasn't supposed to. Mrs. Burnand had kept her Watcher diaries separate from the books she allowed Faith to read but Faith, figuring something hidden had to be important, had read them with careful attention. She knew Council Enforcers could be bad news for her.

About an hour before sunset, four men, each dressed in black, knocked at the door. Faith wasn't sure if she should laugh or not. Men in black? How clichéd was that? But they moved like a team. They were tight. They were good.

Wesley left about fifteen minutes after he'd let them in. Definitely Council. Faith didn't know the Watcher but she kinda figured nobody else could have gotten him out of that house. What, do they think I'm just going to stroll back in after I've already gotten what I came for, she wondered. She was hoping they were there to watch her back, to help her with the vamps that were after her, until one of them climbed out and settled himself on the gentle slope of the roof. He had a gun.

Not here to kill vamps then, she thought. She moved away from the window, out of line of sight, and sat on the floor with her back to the wall. Awfully close to sunset. I stay here, nobody to invite vamps in but those Enforcers wouldn't need an invite. On the other hand, they have no reason to think I'm still hanging around. So why are they waiting for me? I'd have been long gone if I hadn't read those Watcher diaries. Unless Mrs. B caught me reading them and told the Council. Shit, if they think I'm not big with obeying their rules... She thought back to what she'd read in the diaries. OK, I can't stay here, she was thinking when she heard it.

Her name echoed up and down the street. She knew that voice – from the swamp and from her nightmares. The one voice she'd hoped never to hear again. Kakistos. Shit. Shitshitshit.

“Faith. Did you really think you could hide from me?”

She peered cautiously out the window, just in time to see an Enforcer being thrown from the roof. The guy still on the roof snapped the gun in two; definitely a vamp.

Lovely. I'm in a cage for years if I do help but they're dead if I don't, she thought as her hand reached out for her weapons. Taking one last look to get a tactical view of the situation she was going into, she saw a flash from an open window and then drifting dust where a vamp had been.

Most of the vamps hid themselves at that but Kakistos didn't move from the sidewalk, as if a stake couldn't even hurt him. He pointed towards the shadows and a blonde vamp came out, looking around nervously as she ran to the front door and threw herself at it. She bounced off. Faith's jaw dropped as she thought that through. Someone else already owned Mrs. B's house. While they weren't expecting vamps to attack, or they wouldn't have left one of their guys exposed on the roof, those Enforcers were ready for almost anything.

At a sound from above, Faith looked up as a chopper flew into view. A searchlight left the ground as bright as day. “You've got to come out sometime,” Kakistos shouted before he slipped into the shadows. The light didn't follow him. The copter circled, as if looking for someone specific.

Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go, ran through Faith's head as she grabbed her bag and headed for the darkest corner of the attic. Once she'd hidden herself as well as she could, Faith started working out how she was going to get out of the city past people who could bring in a chopper on a moment's notice.


	3. Chapter 3

“Johnny, wakey, wakey.” Faith opened the tie-dyed curtains, letting the sunlight in, where it would have caressed the warm cherry wood dresser, if it hadn't been covered in a layer of dust. Faith blew across the top, raising a cloud, and wondered why Andy, who's family gave him anything he wanted, would treat it that way. “Ever think about getting a maid in here? Not like you couldn't afford it.”

 

Bleary eyes gazed up at her for a moment. “Faith,” he shouted, tossing aside a colorful Guatemalan blanket. He was a tall but lean man, the same age as Faith, and had obviously crashed in the clothes he'd been wearing the day before: jeans with holes worn out at the knees and a t-shirt with the terrified face from the cover of _In the Court of the Crimson King_.

 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Johnny's smile was as open as a sunflower was to the sun but only for a moment. His head titled and he frowned slightly as he studied her. Not yet, Faith thought, grabbing a bag of pot off his dresser. “Babe, what were you thinking? Leaving your Mary Jane out in the open where the cops couldn't help but see it?”

 

He snorted in response. “Cops aren't going to raid this neighborhood.”

 

“Yeah,” Faith replied. “Money solves all kinds of problems.”

 

He looked at her closely again. “Yep, that's me. Problem free. But not you.”

 

Faith put on an easy smile but then dropped it. She was there for his help after all. Why put it off? He rose from the bed and took her hand. Faith held herself still, with effort, the long minutes he stared intently into her palm. Dropping her hand, he dove for the phone by the nightstand.

 

“You know that's creepy, right?” she asked him.

 

Ignoring her comment, he dialed a number and waited. “Blake?”

 

Faith made a face at Johnny when she realized who he was calling. He held a hand out and responded to the line. “What? Time? Umm, I'm going with early. Yeah, sorry about that.”

 

After a pause he added, “Duuude, what kind of problem could I have? Do need a favor though. What time are you leaving?”

 

Faith's eyes narrowed in calculation: back of a hippie van heading to a Grateful Dead concert or whatever they were calling themselves now that Garcia was dead. Totally not her thing but that just meant nobody would be looking for here there.

 

“Ten AM?” Johnny asked into the phone. “That means you'll be getting on the road by about what? Two-thirty? Yeah, traffic. OK, so more like one? Perfect. Got room for one more? No, I can't make it but I gotta friend who wants to go.”

 

Faith, rethinking the wisdom of standing near open curtains, even five stories up, slipped into the hallway. “We'll be by around noon and thanks, man.”

 

As Johnny joined her in the hallway, Faith said, “You didn't give him my name.”

 

He took her hand and squeezed it before giving her some space again. Waving her to follow, he headed towards the kitchen. “Not because he has a problem with you. Just know how the gossip train works and I don't want your name getting dropped around where it could get back to anyone.”

 

The kitchen was immaculate and, Faith knew, full of gadgets whose use she couldn't even begin to guess. “How you can keep this room so neat when the rest of your place is,” she started to say when he interrupted her with a wave of his hand.

 

“Feed the body; feed the soul.” Faith gave him a skeptical look but he just smiled and started pulling food out of the fridge. “Soufflé work for you? With some has browns on the side? Only have four hours to get you fed and out of town.”

 

“Sure but none of that cranberry and goat cheese crap.” Leaving a pale cheese out, that Faith eyed with suspicion, he went back into the fridge for ham and onion.

 

Seeing Faith's expression, he said, “It's the most normal I've got. Trust me,” he added with an easy smile, “Have I ever steered you wrong?”

 

Faith watched him scramble the eggs into a bowl. “Blake and Alicia? That the best you could do? You know she's going to try to teach me macramé again,” she added as she sat herself down on the far end of the counter. He gave her a look as he started slicing up the ham. Faith opened and closed her mouth a few times before she got it out. “Thanks.”

 

He shrugged. “No sweat. You know why.”

 

“Cause you think I'm going to save your life someday,” she said, shaking her head.

 

“Don't think that, know it, but that's not why. Don't like to see my friends get killed.” Faith gave him a sharp look and he caught her gaze. “Or caged in London for a good decade.”

 

“You know who they are?”

 

“Bad, that's all I need to know.” He put the knife down on the cutting board. “Faith.” He paused. “You be careful of them.”

 

“Hey,” Faith replied. “I know how to take care of myself.”

 

“I mean it,” he replied seriously. “Which means,” he added as he picked the knife back up and started chopping onions, “and I know you're not going to like this, you need to borrow some clothes from Alicia.”

 

“No way, you've seen the stuff she wears. I wouldn't be caught dead in that shit.”

 

“Precisely the point,” he said. “They're out there, looking for you. The better you blend, the easier it'll be for you to get away.” Faith continued to look stubborn. “Look, just borrow one of her vests, that red and purple paisley will do nicely, and put a band in your hair, that daisy one maybe.”

 

“Should I wear a vacant expression on my face as well?”

 

“Wouldn't hurt,” he replied. “And it's not just for getting out of town. It'll be easier for you to catch another ride at the concert if you look the part.”

 

“What else?” Faith asked sarcastically.

 

He took her hand, turned the palm over, and traced a line with his index finger. “You're going to have to trust somebody you have no reason to trust.” With a mocking half smile, he added, “Good luck with that.”

 

Faith wrapped her arms around herself, looking like nothing more than a worried child. “Anyplace I should avoid?”

 

He shrugged again. “I don't foresee any problems as long as you're not tracked to the concert. This is going to take about an hour so why don't you crash for a bit? You look beat.”

 

Faith slid off the counter, silently agreeing. She'd been too terrified the night before to doze off for more than a few moments at a time. Grabbing a pillow and throw from a side chair, she stretched herself out on the couch. Damn, she thought as she dozed off. Even his couch is more comfortable than any bed I've ever slept in.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Narbon XL-7 is named for Helen Narbon from the most excellent comic strip, [Narbonic](http://narbonic.com/). Go on, check it out. When a comic has a nemesis with as cool a name as Lupin Madblood, you know it's got to be good. Although, with a name like that, you'd expect him to be a werewolf, wouldn't you? Maybe I'll do a crossover and have Oz bite him or something to fix that little problem.
> 
> The line “Yes to one; no to two,” comes from Buckaroo Banzai or maybe it was “No to one; yes to two.”

From the top of the stairs, Faith looked across the road and up the hill towards a two story brick building that house yet another computer lab. Damn but Pittsburgh's good for keeping in shape, she thought. Nothing but hills and staircases no matter where you go. Looking back behind herself, she glanced over at what was officially titled the Cathedral of Learning but called the Tower of Ignorance by the techies who went to CMU, just up the road. Forty-two stories tall and you could climb all the way up, if you had a mind to, which she didn't. She got enough exercise. Who knew there'd be so many vamps drawn to a college town although she guessed it did make sense. Students off on their own for the first time – must look like walking happy meals to the undead.

After she'd picked up a ride from Rochester, Faith had thought she'd move on from wherever she ended up but Pittsburgh, with four universities, two of them exclusive to women, gave her too good an opportunity to hide. She changed who she was and what school she was going to at her whim and, so far, nobody had called her on it.

She looked around, scanning for vamps, as a student, obviously lost in thought, left the building and started walking down the stairs. I'm too exposed here, she thought. No vamp is gonna be stupid enough to go after this walking victim while there's a witness. To her right and down the hill a bit, someone stepped out of another school building. As he moved into the light, Faith thought, but I've been wrong before and raced down the hill, pulling her stake out as she went.

One quick thrust and the vamp was dust. Turning, Faith saw the student, a young man with dark hair whose eyes were growing wider by the second, stumble backwards, away from her. “You should be more careful,” she said. “Hey, you need an escort home?” she called out after him as he ran back up to the lab. With a shrug Faith thought about moving on to another location when, as she saw a shadow move, she turned and ducked.

Blonde hair and fangs. Kakistos' minion.

As the vamp kicked her in the torso, Faith fell to the ground. Unable to move, she was thinking, oh God, this is it, I'm gonna die, when the vamp turned to dust above her. Jerking herself up, she saw two other vamps and a man with a crossbow. Calmly, looking as if he had all the time in the world but quickly enough, he shot stakes into the two remaining vamps.

“If you wanted to get yourself killed,” he called across to her, “you could have given the Enforcers the honor. They'll be looking for payback after Boston.” When Faith didn't move he added, “Or Kakistos' crew would be glad to take you out. No need to die at the hands of a third rate minion. Unprofessional.”

“Kakistos.” Faith jumped up. “That minion, the blonde, was his.”

The man gave her a disbelieving look. “Definitely not. She was local.”

“And you'd know that because?”

“I'd hardly make a decent demon hunter if I didn't know what Masters had come to the party,” he replied with certainty.

“Uh huh,” Faith replied, not sounding convinced.

“We need to talk,” he said as he strode down the hill towards her.

“About what?”

“Your future and what the hell you're doing here with nobody watching your back.”

“Seems like you already know something about that,” she said, holding her ground. “Council goons to the right of me, vamps to the left. Kinda leaves a girl wondering who she can trust.”

Pulling a bag off his shoulder, he stuffed the crossbow inside. “After Petra, I can see why you wouldn't trust your Watcher.”

“Huh?”

“She sent you into a fight with no intel,” he explained as if accusing the woman of gross incompetence. Deciding he needed Faith slightly off balance, he deliberately invoked her nemesis' name. “Petra should have known who Kakistos was, how many minions he had and, if she'd been halfway decent at her job, what kind of defenses he was likely to have set up. That won't happen on my watch.”

“Your watch. You my new Watcher? Thank God that geek turned tail and fled back to England,” Faith replied.

He closed his eyes for a moment and, when he opened them again, replied, “I apologize. I forgot we haven't been introduced. Aidan Nelson Taylor, at your service.”

“Mrs. B's cousin,” Faith said.

“Yes,” he said. “Mr. Wyndham-Price will be your new Watcher. I realize he's not the most effective fighter but please try not to denigrate him too much. He won't be of any use to us if his self-esteem is damaged.”

“So, if you're not my Watcher, then what do you want?” Faith's eyes narrowed as it struck her. “The r'cal. You're here to get the dagger back.”

He stood a bit taller, as if affronted by her accusation. “The r'cal is yours. I sent it to you.”

“You sent it to your cousin,” Faith corrected.

“I,” he deflated a bit and turned his head. “I should have realized she'd keep it to herself. Petra always had been acquisitive when it came to occult objects. The r'cal is rightfully yours. It's a Slayer's dagger.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“The brother of a Slayer, a man who was both a skilled smith and mage, forged it for the Slayer line. There are rituals I can teach you to feed the soul of the blade and bond it more closely to your own.”

Something in the tone of Taylor's voice told Faith he was sincere. He'd taken a powerful magical object, a blade as beautiful as any she'd ever seen, and sent it to her. That bit about feeding the blade's soul sounded a bit creepy though. “Thought you weren't going to be my Watcher,” she replied, sounding him out.

“I'm not,” he said, “but I've agreed to accept the responsibility of training your Watcher until he's actually able to assist you.”

“That geek?” Faith asked, using a term she'd picked up from the local tech students.

He chuckled. “He's already better than you give him credit for although nowhere near prepared to be a Watcher. The Council,” he shook his head.

“What about those Enforcers? Thought you said they were kinda mad at me.”

“The Council will keep them off your back as long as you're willing to work with Mr. Wyndham-Price.”

“But you'll be training me?” Faith asked.

“No, you'll need someone better than me as a trainer. I'll be training your Watcher.” Faith blinked in surprise. She could already tell he was a much more effective fighter than Petra had been.

“Come on,” he said, nodding towards the parking lot. “I want to get you packed up so we can get out of here first thing in the morning.”

“Back to Boston?”

“My home is in Connecticut,” he replied. 

Faith paused. Mrs. B had stayed in Boston, keeping her in familiar territory. While Taylor strode confidently towards the parking lot, Faith thought over what she'd heard about him. Mrs. B had said he wasn't Council and her new Watcher, she thought with a sigh, had told her Taylor had been exiled to America. He didn't seem to think much of Taylor but, given how unimpressive the Watcher was, that was all in Taylor's favor. Mrs. B certainly thought a lot of him and had even tried to bring him in to train her, although that still didn't seen to be in the cards. On the other hand, anything that might improve Wesley Wyndham-Price had to be a good thing. 

Johnny had out and out told her to trust somebody but mostly it was the dagger. He'd said the r'cal was hers. He could have sent it to the oh so perfect Buffy but he'd given it to her instead. Faith wasn't about to ask why but she figured she could extend a bit of trust back at him.

“Think we can stop over at Primanti's and grab a couple of sandwiches first? I'm starved,” she called out as she picked up her pace to catch up with him.

He nodded and replied, “Yes, but then I'll need to get back to my hotel so I can call Brigit.”

“Oh, you sly dog. Already got a local girl all hot and bothered?”

He gave her a look that said don't ever go there again. “Brigit is my assistant, a local widow,” he replied in a freezing tone.

Faith thought about a crazy cat lady, who'd lived down the street when she was a kid, and was about to make a comment when she was distracted by the cycle sitting alone in the parking lot. “A Narbon XL-7. Midnight blue. One of the snazziest cycles on the road.”

Tossing Faith a helmet, Taylor swung his leg over the cycle and replied, with a huge grin, “Accelerates faster than anything else and hugs the road like a dream.”

“She's yours?” Faith asked. “You gonna be my sugar daddy or what?”

“Yes to one; no to two,” he replied disapprovingly.

As Faith worked out his meaning, something in his tone reassured her. Maybe I can deal with this after all and, if not, she thought, I'm a Slayer. I can get myself out of trouble.


End file.
